


We are nowhere and it's now

by bchekov



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, M/M, bruce is not okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 22:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12993810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bchekov/pseuds/bchekov
Summary: “I thought you hated the taste of wine.”





	We are nowhere and it's now

His vision is blurry, hands shaking, as he’s staring at the ceiling of the batcave. He hasn’t been there for long, but it feels like a lifetime of its own; separate of that of Bruce Wayne and Batman respectively. The stains he sees makes him think of stars; how the clearest stars have been dead for years, and that it’s just the idea that lives on. He chuckles at the irony and closes his eyes.

Someone clears their throat. Bruce opens his eyes and spots Alfred standing with his hands behind his back.

“You have a guest.” he announces.

“Tell them to go away,” he mumbles. “Make up an excuse if you have to.”

“I thought you hated the taste of wine?” the familiar voice of his friend booms behind him and catches him of guard. He steps into the light, frowning slightly.

Bruce doesn’t answer. Alfred gives him a concerned look but doesn’t say anything before he leaves.

Clark sighs heavily and approaches him.

“Please tell me all of this,” he gestures vaguely to the scattered wine bottles around him. “aren’t all from today.” he almost sounds desperate. Bruce almost scoffs, but remains silent.

Clark pauses before he asks carefully, “When was the last time you slept?”. He says it quietly, as if Bruce would retreat even more into himself if he was louder; Bruce himself isn’t even sure if he wouldn’t.

“I don’t know,” he replies softly. “I…” he trails off and takes a swig of wine. It tastes sour. It must show on his face because Clark gives him a look of sympathy. He hates the way it makes him feel so he takes another swig just to prove a point. It tastes even worse.

“What did you come here for?” he asks instead, pretending to read the label on the bottle.

Clark struggles for words before he settles on an honest, “Everyone’s concerned about you. I-”

Bruce stands up. “Save your words, I don’t wanna hear it.” he meets Clark’s eyes for the first time since he arrived. He looks… tired. Just as tired as Bruce feels. It makes him back down. “Sorry. I just, I’ll talk to everyone soon. I just need some time to think.”

Clark nods. “I understand. Take your time, okay? We’ll be right here when you need us.”

“Thanks.” Bruce replies. It sounds hollow. Clark opens his mouth to say something, but the words are lost as his attention turns else where. Bruce straightens his back.

“I need to go,” he states. Before Bruce can offer, he says, “Stay here. No offence, but in your current condition you’ll just be in the way.”

Clark looks apologetic, and Bruce understands, but it doesn’t stop the hurt.

“Before I forget; here,” Clark hands him something small. “This will bring you love.” he winks.

Bruce brings it closer to his face to study it. It’s a silver wreath. Confused, he looks up to question Clark but he’s already left.

There’s a gentle hand on his back and he turns to see Alfred standing there.

“Will you ever tell him?” he asks.

Bruce, clutching the brooch in his hand, shakes his head. “No. I don’t think so.”

**Author's Note:**

> A silver wreath is a metaphor to represent a place where love can be found.
> 
> inspired by the song of the same title, by bright eyes


End file.
